Howe could this happen to me!
by The Warrior of the Light
Summary: 'Even the best laid plans of mice and men go awry.' What happens to one ambitious nobleman during a time of Blight when his coup does not go according to plan.


**I really don't have an excuse for this, other than the fact that there is something terribly wrong with me. I apologize. I might consider making this more than just a oneshot, considering that my imagination can turn any event in DAO into something ridiculous. Time will tell!**

* * *

This would be a night to remember.

Rendon would have smiled, but something had tugged at his conciousness. A few unexpected, unpleasant developments had slightly soured his perfect victory.

The first being, that there was a Grey Warden in the keep. No, he reminded himself, there was a Grey Warden and two recruits, he reminded himself. A tall, bearded man who looked like he hailed from Rivain. Duncan, if he remembered correctly. Then there was that young mage from the Circle Tower, and a tall, blond man that had a striking similiarity to the King. Alistair and Solona. Three Grey Wardens...

Rendon did not trust them, and knew them to be skilled, but perhaps they would not put up much of a fight.

Then there was that bloody insipid leatherworker who completely botched his new armor! The fool had gotten the measurements all wrong! He had fallen flat on his face twice already! Perhaps after his business was finished here, he would pay him another visit, and show him the value of diligence.

Well, these were minor problems. He chuckled to himself as he lounged in the chair of the guest quarters. The rest of his army was hidden away in the hills, and were poised to strike hard and fast. He had outfitted his entire army with Silverite weapons and armor. Bryce Cousland and his Maker damned perfect little family stood no chance, especially since he sent off that worthless son of his with the bulk of his forces. They would all be punished, and be labeled traitors for all of Ferelden to see.

And finally, after so many years, he would receive glory which was rightfully his!

After a few hours, he walked outside, and lit one of the braziers on the battlements, then walked to Bryces' study room where he awaited. There was no turning back.

His name would forever be remembered in Ferelden history!

* * *

"Shit!"

Fergus immediately stopped and scrambled the contents of his pack.

"Something wrong, milord?" One of his captains asked.

Fergus sighed, and put a hand on his face "I've...forgotten something back at the keep."

"What?"

"My toothbrush."

Fergus shook his head, clearly frustrated "I have to go back for it."

Another captain raised an eyebrow "You want to go back to the keep to get your toothbrush?"

The young mans face flushed with embarrassment "I know, it sounds...crazy. But it's not just a toothbrush. It's a family heirloom! My grandfather used it during the Orlesian Occupation!"

Everyone was silent, until one mortified young man broke out "Are you saying you brush your teeth with a toothbrush that's been around for decades?! That was used by your GRANDFATHER?!"

"It's good luck!" Fergus yelled back. His shoulders slumped "Look, we didn't even make much ground anyway. We can always just-"

A flock of banners caught his attention. Those...were the Kings colors! His men immediately scrambled to greet the rather large army. At its head stood two imposing figures in armor, one a dulled silver, the other a radiant gold.

Fergus immediately knelt before them "My King! What are you doing here?! Has something happened at Ostagar? Have the darkspawn broken through?"

He looked up, and saw that Cailan had a sour look on his face, like a child that had just opened a present and judged it to be very wanting. Loghain...well, he was frowning, but it was an unusual frown, not the sort that Loghain always wore. He almost looked...mystified.

"It's over." Loghain said plainly, without ceremony.

"What's over?" Fergus rose to his feet.

"The Blight is already over." Cailan kicked a stone in frustration. "The Archdemon is...dead."

Fergus felt a surge of relief and euphoria hearing those words "It is?! That's...that's wonderful news your Majesty!"

"Yes. Just bloody wonderful." Cailan muttered to himself. "And we have Ser Jory the Valiant to thank for it."

The Kings army cheered in response, which only served to agitate Cailan further. He hadn't even gotten to kill a single darkspawn the entire fight! And he gave no order to kill the Archdemon so soon! That was going to be HIS duty! He had his fathers sword sharpened today just for the deed! It was all so...dissapointing...

"He was a brave lad, Ser Jory." A soldier mourned.

"I saw him leap off the Tower of Ishal and impale it right on the head!"

"Ser Jory, the Hero of Ferelden."

An Orlesian man that Loghain remembered as Riordan flinched with every word. He knew he wasn't telling them something, and it incensed the general. The Archdemon was clearly dead, and he had seen the darkspawn flee back into the Wilds. What was going on?

Riordan merely held his tongue, or replied with lack of emotion "Yes, he was a hero..."

What he didn't say, could not, dared not say, was when the time came for Ser Jory to undergo the Joining, the man tried to scramble away like a frightened child, soiling his armor in the process. It took six men pulling and dragging the man by his legs as he dug his fingers into the earth. It made Riordan flush with shame, remembering the words Jory spoke as they forced the contents of the Joining cup into his mouth:

_"Oh Maker! Please no! I swear, I'll never tell anyone your secrets! Just let me GOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

_And yet, the coward...survived. He passed. After that, he practically begged to be put on guard duty on the Tower of Ishal, far away from the fighting. And Riordan, trying not to embarrass their order, decided that babysitting him was the best course of action._

_Of course, that was when the Archdemon struck. Riordan remembered THAT event very clearly:_

_"The Archdemon?! It's here!?" Jorys eyes went wide with terror._

_Riordan gripped his shoulders tightly "Listen to me, brother. This is up to us, now. Understand? The only way an Archdemon can be slain is by a Grey Warden."_

_"What do you mean?!" Jory yelled._

_Against his better judgement, Riordan explained "Whenever an Archdemon is slain by a non Warden, its essence travels into the closest darkspawn and transforms back into the dragon. But whenever it's slain by a Warden, the essence enters the Grey Wardens body, and...both souls are destroyed. It is the only way."_

_Jory staggered back, looking at the Orlesian as the words finally sunk in "No...no no no no no! That can't be! There has to be another way!"_

_"There IS no other way." Riordan gritted his teeth "But since you obviously lack the courage, and since I am the eldest, I will take the final blow-"_

_A roar deafened both men, and Jory, completely out of his mind by the fear, leapt out one of the large windows, screaming as he fell. He suddenly hit something jagged and dark on the way down, breaking his fall, and his greatsword sunk into what Jory believed was the earth._

_A scream of pain indicated to the man that it was not. In fact, he was still moving, but now downwards. To his unending horror, he looked down, and saw his claymore had pierced the head of something that resembled a dragon._

_"OH NO! NO!"_

_Light enveloped the Archdemons head as it flapped its wings to maintain altitude. The last thing Riordan could hear Jory say was:_

_"NO! NOOO! I DON'T WANT TO DIE, NOOOOOO-"_

_The Archdemon exploded, and threw Riordan onto his back..._

"Riordan...Riordan!"

The man shook out of his haze to find Loghain staring at him "Let us delay no more, Warden. I've business to attend at Highever before we all return to the capital."

* * *

The dagger landed right in Bryces back.

Howe twisted it, relishing the moment, and yanked it out forcefully.

"Howe..." Bryce stumbled for balance on his table "Why?"

Not deigning to dignify him with an answer, Howe raised his dagger again for the killing strike, a victorious smirk on his face...

Something slammed into him that moment, but Howe saw nothing. It felt as if an invisible force had...rammed into him. His head spun, and he looked up to see that someone was standing in the entrance of the study.

It was that little mage WHORE!

"My Teyrn!" Solona yelled, running immediately to his side. The wound was bad, but it could be healed. She pressed it with her hands, and it was enveloped with light.

Howe was furious, but realized that against magic, he was powerless to act. He ran out, and immediately tripped due to his poor armor. He scrambled up off the ground, cursing the name of that inept leatherworker for his plight. Eventually, after running in the chaos of the castle, he found a group of soldiers who were already approaching him.

"My lord! The Teyrns men are pushing us back!" One of them yelled.

Howes eyes were alight with fury "What?! What do I pay you all for!"

"They're well armed, my Arl! They have White Steel arms and armor, and someone is leading their defense! I think its that Grey Warden!"

Howe wanted to go back into that room and beat Bryce into a bloody pulp. Of course perfect Bryce Cousland would provide the perfect supplies to his perfect army to protect his perfect little family. Yet they were still outnumbered! How were they pushing them back?!

"Is that death you're wearing?" Alistair dodged a sword swipe, and ran one of the Amaranthine soldiers through "It really suits you!"

Elissa shot him a questioning look before refocusing her efforts on defending their home with her mother. This...Alistair was a silly manchild, but an incredible warrior nonetheless, and...a natural in other, non martial pursuits, she quipped to herself. The invaders had breached the bedrooms, and even managed to wound poor little Oren, but no more than that.

"I never want to see a sward again." Oren sobbed.

Oriana huddled him to a corner and tried her best to comfort him as the battle raged on.

Eventually, the two lady Couslands and Alistair managed to clear their way to the Main Hallway, where Ser Gilmore and Duncan were pressing their attack. Duncan glided between foes, nimbly stabbing them under their arms.

"Push them back!" Gilmore yelled, pointing his sword "We can hold here!"

Many a silverite sword bounced off ineffectively against the highly superior white steel armor. And many a silverite chestplate or jerkin was slashed into pieces by the white steel weapons forged by Master Wade of Denerim. Elissa, in particular, was wielding a very sharp greatsword made out of a metal that fell from the heavens. Starfang, she called it.

The battle was going poorly so far, and as much as Howe did not wish to believe it, he had to order a retreat to regroup his numbers.

* * *

From the hill, Rendon could see that Bryce was already building up his forces for a counterattack. This was all going so wrong! Bryce and his spawn were supposed to die tonight! Those bloody Grey Wardens had ruined everything!

But all was not lost, he told himself. He still had the forged documents implicating Bryce with the Orlesians. If he could sway Loghain and the King, then the full royal army would march on Highever and do the deed for him. It wasn't what he wanted, but it would have to do now. Meanwhile, he would have to retreat and regroup. Perhaps Esmerelle had hired some mercenaries by now...

"Sire!" A young soldier ran up to him, winded "The Teyrns son is marching back to the Castle!"

"What?!" Rendon roared "Why?!"

"I've no idea, my Arl..." he breathed "But that's not all! The King marches with him! They're heading this way!"

His hands were currently on an empty scabbard someone had discarded. His fingers were running white with the pressure he strained on it. Finally his anger slipped, and he proceeded to beat the poor boy, spilling curse upon curse upon the Couslands, the Grey Wardens, and whoever had the ingenuity and craftsmanship to make that white steel regalia.

When he was sated, he calmed himself. The King could still be swayed. Loghain, could still be convinced. Not all was could not escape, but then again, there was no turning back now.

The royal army was the first to make contact with the Amaranthine forces, and Rendon bowed deeply.

"Greetings, your Majesty. My Teyrn. As you can clearly see, the situation in Highever-"

A piece of parchment was pushed up against the mans armor, and he looked up to see Loghains dark expression. The Hero of Riverdane was known to possess quite the scowl, but this was something else altogether. Rendon felt a chill run up his spine, and that was quite the accomplishment, considering the last time he felt like this was at the Battle of White River.

He reluctantly took it, and immediately recognized his handwriting. A bead of sweat raced down the mans forehead.

"If you would do us the 'honor', of reading that aloud." Loghain drawled out.

Howe looked to Cailan, a plea of assistance, which was quite a precedent, considering Howe thought little of the King. Instead of the young mans jovial nature, however, all he saw was something along the lines of...disapproval.

He finally gave in, looking at the parchment, and clearing his throat:

"Lowan.  
We cannot afford an insurrection at this time. Bryce must be eliminated, and implicated with the Orlesians. Put any troublemakers in chains. Do whatever it takes to weed them out. Whatever it takes, Lowan. Do not fail me.

-H"

Loghain sneered as Howe let the parchment float to the ground "You'd be surprised where I managed to find that. One of my men bumped into one of your couriers along the road before he headed down south to aid us with the darkspawn. I've no doubt you're relieved to see that it has returned to its rightful owner."

"L-l-let me explain, Loghain..." Howe stammered.

The sound of metal clashing near the castle stopped both men, and Cailan stepped forward to see that some of the Amaranthine soldiers were being chased down by a woman with flowing, golden brown hair and a strange looking, teal greatsword. Sensing the glory and thrill of combat, he immediately drew his fathers dragonbone sword and yelled

"BATTLE!"

Without another word, the King ran down the hill, eager for the coming fight.

Loghain merely rolled his eyes, and pointed his soldiers to follow the King, while he gripped Rendons upper arm, and roughly brought him down the hill.

* * *

The resulting battle was rather one sided. Rendons soldiers were demoralized, outnumbered, and surrounded. Not to mention that many of the Highever soldiers were rather incensed and well equipped, and the royal army was almost as eager as the King was to claim glory they were cheated at in Ostagar.

Finally, after the last of the invaders was either slain or captured, Rendon was brought before a sea of people.

Loghain and Cailan were at the head of the pack, talking to themselves, along with that bastard Bryce. The rest of the Couslands were staring daggers at him. Eleanors fingers were twitching on her bow. Fergus had run over to his son and that Antivan whore of a wife, and after a disgusting display of affection, also took turns at glaring at him. Charming.

Then there were those bloody Grey Wardens. Rendon took one look at that mage Solona, and his insides churned with such rage that he felt his head would explode. Then there was that pirate looking fellow Duncan, along with another he overheard to have an Orlesian accent. Finally, there was that blond lad again, standing with...

Ahh. There she was. Elissa Cousland. Elissa who was simply too good for Thomas. Elissa who had disgraced the Howe name by shaming his son at that tournament in Denerim three years ago. Elissa, Bryce Couslands little spitfire. A woman who played the mans part in life.

She was furious, and he was disinclined to hide his ire for her as well.

Finally, after the talking was too much for her to handle, she finally screamed

"ENOUGH!"

Everyone stopped what they were talking about, and watched in awe as the Teyrns daughter stalked towards Rendon Howe, who was bound and on his knees. She was beyond furious at this point. Elissa never liked Rendon, he was a viper in noble clothing. It was only a matter of time before he saw his moment of opportunity and snapped at an unwitting foe. What he had attempted to do to her family and her home was evil beyond evil! Killing defenseless women and children in their beds, while they were asleep! It was a miracle any of them survived!

Lesser among the trespasses, but still prevalent on her mind, was the fact that during their siege, some of the soldiers had...come upon Elissa and Alistair in the middle of something. That alone was enough to get the noblewomans blood up, for she did not like to be interrupted.

Elissa cut the ropes binding Rendon, and she growled "I challenge you, to a duel, Rendon Howe."

And, as per Orlesian custom, she slapped the man right across the face. It certainly had its effect, for both stared at eachother with intensity to make the flames on the fields seem tame in comparison.

"Pup..." Bryce began.

"I accept." Howe sneered at both of them.

"So shall it be." Cailan announced. Loghain looked as if he wanted to protest, but Cailan cut him off "Squire, fetch his weapons. The matter will be settled here."

* * *

After a time, both combatants circled one another in a makeshift circle.

Elissas thoughts drifted to how much she regretted drinking Antivan rum before...well, most of it was on the floor of the Castle hallways now. Battle had a way of sobering one up very quickly. One look at her family, along with that charming man Alistair, who looked quite nervous, and she recentered herself. She was one of the finest blades in Ferelden, and this...monster before her, had dishonored her family name. He would taste nothing but bitter defeat this day!

Rendon was clutching his sword and dagger like they were a part of his own body. His plans had failed. Highever would never be his now. What would happen to Amaranthine? He held little confidence in Thomas or Delilah holding the Arling. Even worse, even more bitter, was the idea of Bryce Cousland having one of his spawn inherit it! Well, if he was to lose everything, he would at least take Bryces little whore daughter with him, right in front of his eyes!

"Look well, Bryce!" Howe spat "This will be a moment you will not soon forget!"

And with that, Rendon made the first move, charging at Elissa with bloodlust. Her strange greatsword was raised in defense, but she did not budge.

Rendon raised his sword...

And felt his foot connect with something very, very solid on the ground. He lost his balance, and time slowed to a crawl. Had his current armor been tailored to his specifics, he might have managed to recover, but he was now beyond recovery at this point. His right arm was lowered and in an awkward position as he fell.

As he finally made contact with the ground, he tasted something metallic in his throat. His sense of taste, however, was largely negated by his sense of pain, which was screaming at him that something very wrong had occured.

He tried to roll on the ground, but found that something was preventing him from rolling onto his back. And in the agonizing pain, he grasped his throat, and found something that should not be there.

Everyone was silent. Mortified. Even the likes of Elissa, who had been moments ago burning with anger and resolve, was reduced to mystified quiet.

Finally, Alistair broke the silence

"Did...did that just happen? I saw that right now, right? I'm not seeing things?!"

One of the spectators, a man from West Hill who was notorious for his sociopathic nature and bad manners jeered:

"OOOOH! Riiiiiight in the jugular!"

Rendon Howe could hardly believe it! He had fallen onto his own sword! How was that even possible!? This was all wrong...all very very wrong... He was going to die!

He clutched at the wound, trying to stop the blood, but it was useless. All he could do was make the odd gasping sound. There was so much he wanted to do at this very moment. He hated everyone and everything, and wanted to burn it all to the ground with him. The Couslands, the Wardens, that leather master...

As the life finally drained out of him, he growled at the Couslands one last time, before finally passing into death.

* * *

**Redcliffe Tavern**

**Days later**

"It was incredible!" A soldier yelled "You should've seen him! He leapt out of the tower and just killed it!"

"What a hero..." Bella swooned "By the way, what's this business about the Arl of Amaranthine? We've heard a lot of things happening in Highever too."

"Well..." He cleared his throat, and addressed the audience before him "Rendon Howe tried to stage a coup against the Teyrn, and was beaten pretty badly. He tries to challenge his daughter to a duel-"

"His daughter?!" A man yelled out "What a coward! Picking on a defenseless woman like that."

The man shrugged "Well, anyway, he goes to try and attack her and...well..."

"Well?" Bella encouraged him "What happened?"

The soldier regarded his mug for a moment "He tripped and fell on his own sword." With that, he downed the contents within, as the crowd said nothing.

Finally, Bella shoved his shoulder playfully "Don't talk such rubbish!"

"It's true!" He whined "I saw it myself! He stabbed himself in the throat! The lady Cousland never even got a chance to swing her sword! It was over before it even began."

More silence, and then finally, a loud chorus of laughter gripped a number of the men. Bella, while not one for rejoicing over ones failings, giggled a bit to herself as well. It was all rather silly, apart from the death of course. How did one manage to fall on their own sword? It seemed difficult.

Lloyd, the bartender, was bent over in laughter as well, and in a move of uncharacteristic genoristy, declared "A round of ale on me for that one! Maker, my sides ache!"

* * *

**400 years later, historians still regard Howes tactical failings and defeat at his own hands to be enough for Rendon Howe to be considered 'The worst swordsman and tactician in Thedosian history.'**

**The Howe name is as blacklisted as the Drydens to this day. Nathaniel Howe, who was en route to Ferelden from the Free Marches at the time of his fathers death, immediately elected to turn ship and return, out of embarrassment. Some of the nobility of Amaranthine felt similiar shame, such as Bann Esmerelle, who hung herself five days later.**

**If Rendon Howe sought for his name to be forever remembered in Ferelden history, he succeeded, though certainly not in the way he expected.**


End file.
